Further
by miss a.j
Summary: reupload of 2004 story. Freddy needs direction and passion in his life. Zack steps in to help. SLASH.
1. Chapter 1

Further

By a.j.

Freddy dumped his backpack nonchalantly against the wall of Zack's garage. It hit the concrete with a large thunk and flopped over. The young teenager glared at it for a moment before sighing. He left it there, feeling it some kind of poetic demonstration of his life, and began to start drumming against any surface he could get his hands on.

He was tired of The Band. He didn't even like to call it by name anymore. It was just The Band. The Band from Hell. The Bane of My Existence. Why I Want to Dunk My Head in My Own Bath Water. Not that he took baths anymore. But still. He didn't understand why The Band was still together anyway. It had been four years. They were all in High School now. They were different people now. And yet, they had all stayed even when Dewey left in search of other venues of income. Sure, they all understood and agreed that it was "his time to leave," but that did not mean that Freddy had no reason to want to follow him.

That was two years ago; everybody else seemed to be stuck there. Not Freddy, though. No, he was living out The Best Fucking Years of His Life, doing whatever the hell he wanted whenever the hell he wanted. He had skipped out on many practices for The Band, even, a fact that made him grin. Hell, he had even missed the last four practices in a row, which would probably explain why he had gotten The Death Glare from Zack, served up ice cold from behind a thick fringe of black bangs. Freddy grinned as he thought of making his friend angry, something that had become somewhat of a pastime of his. Of course, he wasn't sure if he could call Zack a "friend" anymore. Not that that was his fault, oh no. Nothing was his fault. Not when he could just blame everybody else.

Speaking of Everybody Else, he was suddenly aware that all of his bandmates' eyes were staring at him. Freddy opened one eye and looked at them all with the same hard expression they had looking back at him.

"What the fuck you all lookin' at?" he drawled, halfway between lazy and amused. Zack immediately started towards him and was just as quickly held back by the rest of his bandmates.

"It is not worth it, Zack," Summer quipped. She then turned to glare at Freddy. "He's just being an a-hole."

Freddy rolled his eyes and sped his drumming up, making it harder and faster just to annoy the rest of his bandmates.

Freddy grinned in achievement as he heard Zack throw down his guitar in annoyance.

"That does it," he mumbled. Freddy felt hands drag him by the shirt collar outside the side door and into Zack's backyard, muffling the sounds of protest that were coming from the other side. The rest of the people would have barged right out the door if it weren't for the fact that Freddy's body weight was now pushed up against it. That and Zack had locked the door. Freddy could faintly hear Summer telling the others that "Zack could take care of himself, anyway," and faintly wondered if the two of them were dating, what with all of the lovey eyes going from Summer to Zack. The thought both amused and sickened him.

"What the hell is your fucking problem, man?" Zack sneered, inches away from his face. "You don't show up to a practice for weeks and suddenly you're back and you're the fucking king of the whole fucking world and can do whatever the fuck you want?" Freddy winces as, with every "fuck" that came from Zack's mouth, there was another shove against the door. He felt too shocked to move for seconds; suddenly, a thought passed through his mind.

_How dare he treat you like that?_

His eyes narrowed and his hands went to push the other boy away from him.

"Hey! Fuck you! Who gave you the right to judge me?"

Zack narrowed his eyes and punched, _hard_. Freddy felt himself lose balance as he toppled over and rolled once, twice, three times, finally stopping in a patch of grass. Stunned, he reached up to check his face to make sure it wasn't bleeding; satisfied, he looked up at the towering figure above him. Both boys were breathing hard, and Zack's face was shadowed, yet still Freddy felt as though he could see into his eyes. They looked hurt, yet clouded, as though he was trying to conceal something.

"What happened to you?" Zack whispered, shaking his head. "I thought I knew you, but I guess I don't."

Freddy glared up at Zack, eyes flashing. He wanted to fly up, knock the other boy senseless, beat his face in, anything, but the anger seemed to have rendered him immobile. "Oh fuck you, Zack. You don't know the first thing about me and you never have!"

"I know you're passionate," he answered quickly. The lack of anger in his voice surprised Freddy, which only served to fan the flames of anger in his heart. He wasn't ready for anybody to care. "Or, you were. You used to care about this. It used to be your life. Now all you care about is fucking around with girls and partying all night and making the rest of us mad."

The raw emotion coming from Zack's mouth shattered all of Freddy's resolve; it reminded him of bygone days, shadows of those long nights on the phone or in one of their backyards, talking about everything and nothing at all. In a lot of ways he missed that; he missed the tents they would put up, the ghost stories they would tell which slowly evolved into stories about girls, the companionship. The feeling of knowing somebody really cared.

He wondered when those days had gone away. When he had traded in friendship for the kind of acceptance you don't get from a friend. He knew that friends loved you too much to accept it when they knew you were doing something wrong. Freddy didn't want to be told he was doing something wrong. He knew it already.

"Didn't you ever feel the passion?" Zack gasped, his whole body shaking with emotion. "The feeling of… of this is right where I should be? Where it feels like you love this thing so much that your heart aches when you're not with it, that life would stop if you stopped, but when you do it you can't breath and you think you are dying but you're not because you're the most alive you've ever been in your whole fucking life? Didn't you ever feel it? Hasn't drumming made you feel it? Hasn't-" he gulped then, her heart shining through. "Hasn't anybody ever made you feel like that?"

All of Freddy's insides were spinning, swirling, turning into a puddle of goo. He had never heard anything so fervent, so raw and aching, and Freddy felt like he wanted to – well, no need in finishing that thought. Instead, he decided it would be better to revert to the only safe thing he could do: make fun of Zack and cover everything else up.

A smirk draped lazily across his face. "Yeah," he grunted. "Your mom."

All of a sudden Zack's body was against his, his hands beating at his chest, his legs kicking at anything they could reach, his whole body exploding in anger. Freddy could do nothing at first, immobilized and pinned down. He managed to break his arm free and throw his whole weight to the side, bringing the other body with him. The two tumbled and rolled, kicking, screaming and fighting, fists flying into a fury as they each did their best to beat the living shit out of each other.

"You are such a fucking idiot," Zack gasped, glaring. Freddy laughed.

"Whatever, Passion Boy." He rolled on top of Zack, pinning him down with his arms and legs. "You have no idea what the fuck you're talking about. You think you're all high and mighty because you're the lead guitarist of School of Rock? Well I have news for you, you bastard. Nobody fucking cares. This band should have died years ago! I hate it! I hate all of you! I hate you! You are such a shitter!" He paused to laugh, gazing down at the other boy whose body was literally shaking with anger. Freddy smiled to himself, having achieved his goal. Zack was bad, he would be kicked out of the band, he wouldn't have to stop and think about any unwanted thoughts that had found their way into his head, he could go back to his girlfriend, he could party all night and sleep all day and nobody would be there to tell him not to.

And now, for the Grand Finale, ladies and gentlemen.

"Besides," he whispered, bringing his head close to Zack's. "You will never feel the passion that Chrissa and I feel when I-"

And all at once, the show stopped. Zack's mouth was on him, and Jesus, it felt Heavenly.

Any other thought abandoned, Freddy moved arms from their position of holding the other boy down to raking across the body underneath him. The freed hands came up and tangled themselves in Freddy's hair. Everything was moving so fast, their bodies moving and rolling, his hands grasping and tugging and squeezing and feeling, their bodies rubbing and tangling, and their mouths teasing and pressing, tongues testing and tasting and exploring, and suddenly Freddy's bottom lip was being nipped and sucked and licked and oh God let it never end.

And suddenly, it was over. Zack pulled back, and for the first time Freddy noticed that he was pinned on the grass. He looked up, confused and panting. Zack threw a glance over his shoulder and looked back.

"They're coming," he explained as he got up off of Freddy and ran back to the garage. Freddy had no choice but to look on, his whole head still spinning.

Oh God, Freddy. What are we going to do about this, now?


	2. Chapter 2

Further

By a.j.

Really, when you think about it, Freddy wasn't sure why the hell he was surprised. It wasn't as though Zack had ever had a girlfriend for more than a week. And whenever he had a girlfriend he had always spent more time with Freddy talking about anything but. In fact, Freddy wasn't sure why he hadn't known that Zack was gay before.

Of course, you don't really think about somebody being gay when you're ten or eleven years old. Of course, if he was going to assume Zack was gay then why not himself? It wasn't like he had stopped the kiss. Of course, that could not be true. Of course.

He wasn't gay. He so wasn't gay. He was not a fag. Not that he had anything against fags. He just refused to be one of those poufy glam rockers.

He wasn't gay. He just liked kissing guys. And not really all guys. Just Zack.

Zack, with the pretty, red lips and the deep, brown eyes – almost black, really – and the dark, longish hair that was just long but shaggy enough to be hot and the insistent, passionate kisses and-

Great. Now Freddy had a hard-on.

But it wasn't like he could stop thinking about the kiss they had shared. It wasn't like anything he had ever experienced before, and he had experienced a lot. It wasn't like with a girl, where you had to hold them just right, tell them you loved them, be gentle and careful and nice, hold back as much as you could just so you could hear the soft mewling sounds they made, where their lips fell open under yours gently like a flower, where they told you to stop just when things were getting to the hot part. It wasn't like that at all. With Zack, it was very primal, just two writhing, sweating bodies pushing against each other, where their hands were everywhere at once and they didn't fucking care about "the right way" or "the romantic way" because they were both happy enough just knowing that they liked the kiss a lot. There weren't flower-lips, there were two hot pokers pressing against him and almost burning him. There wasn't the whole bullshit about "Ooh baby that was nice," or little mewling sounds; there was just a lot of groaning and gasps and the little insistent moans that Zack made when Freddy's hands got anywhere near his ass.

And God, there was so much passion he had felt like he was about to pass out but he didn't want to miss the good part.

He wasn't gay. He was very, very straight, in fact. He had a girlfriend. A girlfriend he fucked on a regular basis.

Oh, excuse him. "Made love to." Never fucked.

But it wasn't his girlfriend that he had kissed yesterday. It wasn't his girlfriend's ass that he was thinking about when he had rushed home yesterday and his hand automatically gravitated to his pants. It wasn't his girlfriend's name he practically screamed in whatever voice his throat could muster up when he had come all over himself in record time. And it sure as hell wasn't his girlfriend that was, once again, giving him a raging hard-on with just the thought of her.

His hand instinctively reached down and curled around his cock, stroking himself quickly.

"Zach," he choked out, his thoughts trailing back to the one moment they had shared together the day before. "Oh, God."

He wasn't gay. He was, in fact, very, very straight. He just happened to enjoy the taste of one boy. Just one boy. One very, very delectable boy.

And maybe, just maybe, he would get the chance to taste more than just his mouth next time.

Suddenly, he felt the rush of an orgasm hit him as he grunted and released into his own hand. His head hit his pillow and his eyes shut.

He wasn't gay. He wasn't gay. He wasn't gay.

Maybe it would be easier to think of Zack as a girl. With no boobs. And a cock. And okay, so he wasn't a girl. He was just a very pretty boy.

Freddy was so fucked.

Freddy laughed drunkenly, his whole body buzzing with the beer that his friend Kevin had given him. The two slumped against each other, each too gone to do much more than babble about nothing and everything and nothing.

He turned his head to face his friend, smelling the musty taste of old alcohol on Kevin's breath.

"You know who your sister looks like?"

"Who?"

"My friend Zack."

Freddy felt the chuckle rumble through his own body, shaking him, and his eyes narrowed. "Why is that funny?"

"Zack is such a fag…"

Freddy's eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare call my friend that."

Kevin suddenly stopped laughing. "Dude, just last week we were sitting here laughing together at how stupid his hair is. What's with the sudden 'tude, dude?"

I had just been making fun of him.

Freddy closed his eyes and turned his back on Kevin.

"Nothing. Just… nothing." He sighed and took in a few deep breaths. "Hey, pass me the joint, will you?"

Kevin grinned and did as Freddy commanded. Freddy looked down at the drug in his hand, thought about Zack, and took one deep, long drag before exhaling slowly.

Impaired judgment was a bitch, Freddy decided. From now on, he needed to drag somebody around behind him to be with him always and tell him when what he was doing was a good idea or a bad idea. Otherwise he ended up doing things so stupid even he knew they were stupid.

Which explained why he had somehow ended up at Zach's house at 2:00 AM on a Friday night, both high and drunk off of his ass and throwing small pebbles from the rock garden at the window he knew was Zack's as though any of that was a good idea. And he knew from the second that That Face appeared in the window, eyes wild and frantic with fear, that what he was doing was utterly and completely stupid.

Of course, it was far too late to back out now. Especially when Zack had just thrown down a makeshift rope ladder made of bed sheets and clothes.

Freddy grinned and started ambling his way up the wall of the posh house with the vines all along it, making just enough noise to be constantly shushed by the other boy. When he finally reached the top he was pulled hastily into the room and the window was shut just as quickly once the ladder was pulled in.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Freddy?" Zack hissed, his eyes still holding the same crazed look as before. Freddy giggled, his hands reaching up to run through Zach's deep brown hair.

"Hey, Rapunzel," he breathed, his eyes gazing at the long, shaggy hair in his hands. How it got to be so perfect was beyond him. It wasn't as though it was very soft or very straight. It wasn't very well kept; in fact, it was messy and somewhat coarse. And yet, it still happened to be the hottest thing Freddy had ever felt. He groaned a little bit as he buried his face in the locks of hair, rubbing his face in it as he kissed along his scalp. He was suddenly pushed away, against Zack's bed.

"You're drunk," Zach accused. Freddy scowled.

"Oh, like you've never been."

Zach sputtered for a few seconds, caught. Freddy giggled.

"You're so cute," he commented as he started crawling back to Zack. He was met once again with hands to his chest, sending him backwards and up against the bed once more.

"I can't talk to you when you are drunk."

"And high!" Freddy announced happily. His grin suddenly disappeared when the frantic brown eyes he loved to look at so much suddenly filled with concern and fear.

"You are what? What… what the fuck were you thinking, Freddy?" He ran his fingers through his shaggy hair, speechless. "I just… I didn't know… what was it?"

"Weed." Freddy answered simply, a slight edge of fear creeping into his voice. He hadn't meant to make Zack worry. And, for some reason, it felt right to sporadically latch onto the other boy and cry into his chest.

"I'm sorry, Zack! I didn't mean to make you worry!"

The two lay there for minutes upon minutes, Zack working his hands through the other boy's short, spikey hair, then rubbing small circles into his back, and every once in awhile placing small kisses on his forehead, soothing him. When he tried to move Freddy cried out, clutching at his chest.

"Don't leave me!"

Zack smiled. "I'm not. I'm just getting the blanket." He pressed a small kiss to his friend's forehead before retrieving the red comforter and draping it across the two of them. They lay on their sides, holding each other, silent.

After a very long- though pleasant, Freddy though- while, he broke the silence abruptly. "Zack?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm not gay."

Freddy felt the sharp intake of breath against his cheek from the other boy and held his own breath, not sure what he had just done. When he felt his body being pushed back away from the movement of Zack's chest, he let out the breath with him, relieved.

"I know."


	3. Chapter 3

Waking up was one of those things that everybody does but not everybody likes. Some people, like Freddy, mostly dislike waking up because it means that they are not dead yet. Some people enjoy waking up when they have things to live for. And sometimes, there are times when you can find yourself somewhere in-between.

In-betweens were usually worse. They meant that you couldn't fit into a normal, that you were stuck between two worlds. For example, some people wake up with somebody in their own bedroom. Some people with up with somebody in the other person's bedroom.

Some people wake up alone in another person's bedroom. In-between.

Freddy was fortunate. At least his sleeping partner had been kind enough to leave him a note to explain his raging headache and groggy senses and, most importantly, why he was on top of Zack's bed.

fred-d:

u were drunk & hi so u crashed here. dont worry. nutin happned w/ us. i kno ur str8. i'm eatin w/ the parents. ill bring u sum. they dun kno ur here.

-zak attak

Freddy had to smile at the familiar handwriting, the familiar childhood nicknames they had given each other a few years before but what seemed like a lifetime ago, and the familiar smell of… everything. It made being in-between seem easier.

Of course, sometimes in-between wasn't so bad. Like when you are in-between a person and a wall. Or a bed. Or the floor. Or a pool table.

Freddy guessed he knew the answer to "is sex all you think about?"

He had done a lot of thinking lately, which was new for him. But he guessed he had a lot to think about, obviously. But he didn't just think about that. He thought about The Band.

The Band had given him a lot of things, if he really stopped to think about it. It had given him a purpose and a drive in life, some kind of a goal. It had given him ambition. Hell, it had given him throngs of girls chasing after him. (When you went to private schools, it wasn't as though you found a whole lot of blonde punk-rock drummers.)

Most of all, though, it had given him friends. Friends. At where he had been in life, friends were something you had if you were geeky enough to latch on to somebody. It wasn't as though he didn't want friends. It was just much safer to hang out with the people who could help him than the people he wanted to be with.

Being in the band had given him people to depend on, people to trust, people to really love. Even Lawrence ended up being funny when he broke out of his shell, and had given himself and Zack a "Project." Freddy smiled as he thought about the "Sessions" they had had with the keyboardist, trying to show him the true beauty of rock. He knew that, in the end, Lawrence would always be a bitch to the classics, but he wasn't really such a geek sometimes.

Summer was such a bitch. Freddy couldn't think about any other way to put it. She was a downright bitch. Of course, through the band's first late-night drinking party in the seventh grade they had learned a lot of things about Summer, particularly that she could really loosen up if given the right ingredients. Since then she had become easier to get along with, of course. Plus, it was nice to have somebody do all the dirty work of setting up band practices and shit like that. Freddy sure as hell wouldn't have been able to do it.

Katie had turned into a total hottie. There was no way around it. With the long legs and dark hair and full lips, she was the epitome of sex on a stick. He would do her. Of course, she was also completely annoying and too commanding for his tastes. And that pursed look she did – ugh! He couldn't stand it sometimes, and he had no qualms against telling her so. He had suffered many playful bruises at her hands. They were friends, and that was it, and that was all there would ever be. They were extremely comfortable with each other and could flirt and fight and do whatever the hell they wanted. She had once fallen asleep against him on one of those late, late drives back to their houses after a concert. And he was perfectly fine with that.

Of course, The Band especially meant Zack. He had never known how cool that boy could be once he started talking. He was hilarious. He was smart. He was very adventurous; nobody else would have dared to escape downstairs for a midnight snack after his parents had turned on the alarm system but Zack. And when he got back and Freddy told him what an idiot he was, Zack had just plainly said that he had done it for Freddy. He was just like that.

Freddy smiled, thinking about all of the late-night conversations they had ever had, all of the sleep-overs. They rarely slept and usually stayed up all night laughing and talking like a pair of girls. They would watch movies and comment on how hot so-and-so was when they got older, but then they found as they got older that it became less and less comfortable sleeping over at the other's house. After all, they didn't want people to think they were a bunch of fags.

That was around when Dewey decided that he had to leave The Band for the good of The Band. He was getting older, wiser, and needed to leave. Besides, they were at the point where they could take care of themselves. Freddy guessed it was true, but he was sure that that marked the point in his life where things started going downhill. When The Band seemed to be falling apart, he went right along with it, getting into the habit of boozing and fucking late into the night and living out his old "rock star dream." There were less and less phone conversations with Zack and more and more parties with girls with no faces.

The whole of The Band started getting more and more estranged from him. He started making fun of the whole thing more than he did like it. Sometimes he regretted the decision himself and Zack had made in the seventh grade that, come High School, they were going to a public school. Freddy would never, ever know how they had finally convinced their parents that it was a good idea. Probably about "life experiences" or some shit they had come up with. It was a good idea at the time. They could hang out together, meet new friends, have a fun time, etc. Naïve ideas, all of them. Freddy knew the reality of it all now, and he wanted to shove Zack back into a private school. At public high school everyone laughed at Zack for his very fitted, black t-shirts, messy hair, and his loner status. They all said he dressed like a fag so he must be a fag.

Freddy thought he looked cool.

Last night was the first time in almost two years that he had spent the night with Zack. He wasn't even sure why he was there, but he knew that, even though he would have to hide if Zack's parents showed up, he felt so completely safe there. There there was no booze, no drugs, no people to push him to do things he knew were wrong but felt so good.

Of course, it wasn't like his secret plan of jumping on Zack and making out with him for hours and hours was such a "right" thing to do. It felt right. It felt great. But that didn't mean he could shake off a lifetime's teachings of the horrors of being gay. It meant you acted like a girl. It meant you couldn't hang out with guys. It means you would get AIDS. It means nobody would ever talk to you again.

But then, it meant Zack.

Freddy was confused. Confused and tired and his head hurt and his whole body ached and his mind was so fuzzy it was hard to think anymore. All he wanted to do was curl up and fall asleep and dream of messy-haired, skinny boys with long fingers.

It was enough that when said boy walked into the room, Freddy was certain it was a dream. Which is probably why he got up off of the bed, walked over to the boy who was mumbling about something or another and taking the bootleg waffle from his jeans pocket, grabbed his face and kissed him, hard.

The waffle dropped to the ground in surprise, and shaky hands moved to encircle Freddy's waist. Freddy grinned and playfully licked at Zack's bottom lip. The other boy groaned and opened his mouth and the two busily set to exploring, knowing they had some time. Freddy's hands fisted in dark hair as he felt another pair of hands begin their search up Freddy's shirt. He groaned and pushed closer to the other body at the hot contact of fingernails lightly scraping at his back. The long fingers fisted around the bottoms of Freddy's red t-shirt and began lifting it.

"Up," Zack breathed, pulling away for the few seconds it took him to discard the shirt. He kissed Freddy once again, quickly, before pulling back to look at the newly uncovered plane of skin. His eyes looked wild, feral, pleased, and Freddy felt himself flush with pride rather than embarrassment. Freddy suddenly felt himself pulled backwards by his belt-loops and all at once they had flopped together on Zack's bed, their mouths on each other once again as their hands explored.

Every moment with Zack was a new experience, Freddy decided. After all, if anybody had told him even a week ago that he would be making out with any guy, much less Zack, by the weekend, he would have punched their lights out and laughed at him.

He definitely wasn't laughing now, not with a hot, wet mouth working its way down his neck and onto his collarbone, kissing and licking and sucking, hard, and oh, God, teeth and so good.

"I've wanted you for ever," Zack gasped, and the hands in his hair tightened. "I never thought you could feel the same way."

Freddy only grunted in response, pushing his hips upward.

Zack laughed and crawled back up, kissing Freddy once more. "I thought you weren't gay," he teased when he pulled back, his hands working lazy symbols into Freddy's chest.

"I'm not," Freddy remarked as he went in for another kiss. All of a sudden, it was over, and instead of wild, feral, darkdark eyes there were angry, hurt looking eyes.

"Well if you're not gay then what the hell are we doing."

"Making out."

"But you aren't gay."

"Nope." Freddy has propped himself up on one elbow, quickly becoming annoyed with these questions.

"I'm not going to be your 'experiment.'"

"You're not."

"Then what am I?"

"Really, really hot?"

Zack scoffed and left the bed. He bent down and retrieved the red pile of fabric from where it was tossed over his lamp and threw it at Freddy. "There."

"What'd I do?"

Zack twirled around and gave Freddy The Death Glare of Doom Freddy was all-too familiar with.

"I'm not going to be with a boy who's lying to himself."

"I'm not lying! I'm not gay!" Freddy squeaked, throwing his hands up in the air. He was hungry and tired and his head hurt and he didn't understand what the fucking problem was.

"Well then what the fuck are you?"

Hungry. Tired. Tired of lying to my parents. Tired of drinking. Tired of being stupid. Tired of you always giving me the look like you miss me but you're so mad you can not talk. Bored with this conversation. Somebody who likes you, a lot, enough to make out with you on your bed which is kind of a big thing since I'm not gay and all. Only a little bit gay, but just for you. Somebody with a headache. Tired.

"I don't know," however, was what came out of his mouth. Zack scoffed and looked away. When he turned back, Freddy was shocked to discover that those darkdark, hurt eyes were a lot more shiny than they should ever be.

"Out."

Freddy bit his lip and drummed his fingers against his knee for a few moments, just looking at the other boy.

"Za-"

"Out."

Freddy look up and glared, anger rising in his chest. "Zack, that's not fai-"

"Fair? You want to talk fair? Is it fair that I'm gay? I didn't ask for it! Is it fair that my dad hates me? Is it fair that the whole fucking school hates me? Is it fair that the band, which is the only thing holding me together, is falling apart? Is it fair that the one guy I have liked for years and years isn't gay? And that he teases me and kisses me and is so fucking perfect but he is not gay?" Freddy stared, his eyes wide. Zack's eyes were crackling and his hands were fisted, hot tears streaming down his face. He paused, pushing the hair out of his face, and looked down. By the time he found his voice, it was just a whisper. "Don't talk to me about fair. Just. Get. Out."

Freddy looked down, climbed off of the bed, grabbed the rope that was still assembled from what he could only have guessed was his late-night break into the house and left without another word.

You really fucked up this time, Freddy, you idiot.


	4. Chapter 4

Further

By a.j.

It was amazing how natural some things were. You didn't really learn how to move your toes and your fingers and your head. You just Knew. You didn't really learn how to feel. You just did. You didn't learn what you liked and what you didn't. You just knew.

You didn't really learn how to love. You just did.

Freddy didn't really learn to come back to where he should be, where he felt the safest. He just did.

Even though that meant facing Zack.

Facing your problems was definitely not one of those Natural attributes people have on default. It is something people have to learn. Something Freddie hadn't yet learned. Instead, he liked to sit back and let things work themselves out. Though that would probably explain his piss-poor relationships with most people. And his less-than-his-best grades.

But who the hell cared?

Well, sometimes Freddy cared. Not that it was that much of a big deal. It was just that sometimes he thought that it would be nice if life were simple like things were in fifth and sixth grade.

Now he was almost an adult. Alright, he admitted it. He was almost an adult. That means he had real responsibilities and there were real consequences for his actions. It wasn't like in Elementary school where all you had to do was say "I'm sorry, want a cookie?" Now he had to think and apologize and basically just hope and pray that the other person would forgive him and that things could sort of kind of return to some sort of normal.

That was hard. Especially the day after. Especially when the other person refused to even look at you, even when you were at his house.

The moment he arrived at The Band's band practice, things began to quiet down. It wasn't that everybody was particularly mad at him. Admittingly, Summer was still very pissed off at him, though that was just for Zack's sake.

"Glad you could make it," she sneered as he walked through the door. Freddy rolled his eyes, and Zack just kept his eyes staring straight forward as he went to pick up his guitar once more.

"Whatever," he whispered under his breath. While he usually would have made some snide comment back, Summer's hero-worship of Zack was just damned annoying right now.

He knew why, of course.

"Alright, let's, uh, take it from 'He didn't know.'" Zack said, his voice just barely loud enough to hear. Nobody said anything about the silence, about the tension, about the constant downward looks, though Freddy heard the distinct sounds of whispering amongst the backup singers.

He had to smile at the choice of song, though. The song they had written six months ago. Even when he wanted to, Zack could never escape him.

The Band played for another hour. Their sound was very strained, for their minds were very strained. When somebody was off, the whole group was thrown off with them. Freddy felt horrible that, because of him, the whole band sounded as horrifying as it did. But he knew there was little he could do about it.

Fuck that. He couldn't do anything about it. Not when Zack wanted to be a drama queen about everything.

"Alright, uh, let's just. Um." Zack paused to run his fingers through his hair, sifting the black strands out of his eyes. "Let's take a break."

The whole band murmured in agreement. All Freddy could do was bang his drumsticks on his knees to try to distract himself.

Your fault, he berated himself. Your fault your fault your fault your fault

"Freddy?"

He opened his eyes to find himself looking in a pair of deep, brown eyes. Not His brown eyes, though.

"What?"

"We're starting practice again," Katie explained. She turned around and started to walk away, then turned around and looked at him.

"You know we're all here."

Freddy smiled and nodded before turning his eyes back down to his drumset. He knew every single inch of it, from the shining metal of the cymbals to the fuzzy head that beat the pulse of the bass drum.

He remembered the day he had finally completed his "Dream Set." Zack was there. They were twelve. His mother had to specially order the crowning glory, the custom snare. It was red, his favorite color as well as Zack's, with black glitter coating it, just man enough to be forgivable but showy enough to be Freddy. The pad was black, and the pieces that held it together were made of real silver, not metal. He knew it would shine on stage better than anything, and he knew it would go perfectly with the rest of his set. They had driven three hours out away just to pick it up, a journey that caused him to lose the rest of his allowance for the whole month just to pay for the gas money. Not that that mattered much to him.

The day that they got it, he had entered the shop with his mother and Zack, who had insisted that he come along. He had thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. He was wrong. The most beautiful vision was seeing it with the rest of his drum set.

He had stared and looked at it for almost fifteen minutes, Zack standing just close enough and yet still far away, before the other boy got restless. Suddenly, a hand on his shoulder. Zack. He turned around and smiled.

"Isn't it perfect?"

Zack had sighed and looked at it. "I guess, if you're a loser." He looked up at Freddy and smiled his mischievous smile, the one where one of his eyes grew squinty. Freddy had playfully punched him in the arm.

"Whatever, Mr. 'Ohmygawd I got the 1999 Gibson Les Paul guitar!'" Zack only smiled in return.

"It's missing something, Jones."

Freddy had laughed. "Yeah, me sitting behind it."

Zack's eyes had gotten that mischievous look into them again. "Yeah, yeah that's it." He had turned around and fingered the strings on his guitar for a second, smiling to himself, before turning back around. "You know, I think I saw something underneath your seat when I helped set it up."

Freddy stared at him, curiosity laced throughout his features. He turned and went to his stool, picked it up and moved it. Underneath it was a long, crudely-wrapped package of shiny gold wrapping paper and an orange bow on top. The colors completely clashed. He had looked up and smirked.

"What is this, Mooney?"

Zack had said nothing, just smiled and given him that piercing, daring look. Freddy bent down, picked it up, and literally tore the wrapping away.

Drumsticks. Black drumsticks with gold tips and smooth, fine handles. Extra long. And his initials on them.

Freddy had looked up and grinned, his grin meeting the same one five feet away from him. The one where he smiled out of the side of his mouth and his eyes shone like diamonds.

Freddy looked down at the same pair of drumsticks in his hands, three years later. The handles were bent out of shape, no longer sleek black but black with specks of light brown here and there from where the twigs were coming loose. The gold had long since chipped away, and his initials were faded. But the one thing that did stand out was the carving of Zack's initials that Freddy insisted just had to be there.

He smiled sadly, lost in his own thought, and earned himself another verbal berating from Summer when he had finally returned to Planet Earth.

"Come on, Freddy, we need a drummer in the here and now, not somewhere in your own little dream world."

Freddy only smiled a sad smile and twirled the drumsticks between his fingers. Summer smiled back, her protective side overshadowing her business side. She crossed her thin arms over her chest, her usual stance, the bossy side taking its place.

"Oh yeah, Freddy, it's time for you to pick what we're eating when we're done. What do you want?"

"He doesn't know," came an angry, hissing whisper from the other side of the room. All heads turned to Zack, who was looking at Freddy through thick bangs, his guitar clutched in his fists. His knuckled were turning white.

"Zack-" Summer began.

"He doesn't know what he wants. Or he won't say it. He's a coward."

"That's it!"

All eyes turned this time to face Lawrence, surprise written on all of their faces.

"I can. Not. Take. This. Shit. Anymore. If there's a problem between you two, any of you, you leave it out of this room, huh? What happens out there stays out there."

Everybody looked around at each other, too surprised to move or say anything. They watched at Lawrence silently picked up his backpack and put on his sunglasses.

"I'm leaving. We can't do this when you two are fighting." He waved dismissively at the group, one foot already out the door. "Work it out."

And with that, Lawrence had exited the building. Under and other circumstance, Freddy would have given him a medal, or at least a standing ovation, for fucking talking for once.

However, it wasn't any other circumstance. It was this circumstance.

An immense silence filled the room, followed by the shuffling of feet. Freddy looked down, watching through the space between his bass and his food pedal as Converse after Converse trampled out of Zack's garage. He picked up his drumsticks and began beating against his knees nervously.

He barely noticed as one final pair of Converse – plain black, scuffed in the front, a hole on the right side, size 10 – filed past him, opened and closed the door, and was gone.

Well, Freddy. What about now?

He knew about now. Enough bullshitting. He stood up, and followed Zack, determined.


	5. Chapter 5

Further

By a.j.

Freddy could barely hear anything. Not the clomping of his own boots digging into the newly-cleaned, champagne-beige wall-to-wall carpeting from the new revisions on the house. Not the sound of the pounding of the feet and slamming of the door from the person he was chasing after, only a few steps in front of him. Not Zack's mother calling out to him from the other side of the room, concernedly.

"What happened at practice?"

It was as though thick gauze covered his head, capturing him and suffocating him until he could finally free himself. He knew the ball rested in his side of the court and it was hit turn to hit it back.

And in the end, he figured this whole mess was a lot like a tennis match: long, drawn out, boring, and, especially, something he would never understand.

It was enough to make him throw his arms up in anger and punch his fist into the wall. Which did sound rather appealing. He had always found that he liked solving his problems with a few well-aimed punches and a handful of yelling.

He wasn't quite sure that that could solve his particular problem right now, though.

Before he was even sure what he was doing, the door to Zack's room was open and he was standing in the doorway. The other boy was expertly avoiding him; in fact, the only acknowledgement that Freddy had entered the room was a slight movement of Zack's hand as he reached down and turned the volume to his headphones all the way up. Freddy might as well had been the brunette's maid, just coming in for a few seconds to pick up the discarded, black clothing and put it in a laundry hamper.

This, of course, only served to anger Freddy all the more.

He slammed the door behind him and stormed up to his friend, ripping the angsty, driving beat away from the other boy's ears. As Zack began to reach back and protest, Freddy began the series of berating, half-finished comments.

"You drama queen. You fucker."

"How the hell are you trying to make it like I'm in the wrong?"

"How the fuck aren't you? You're-"

"You're the one who is a tea-"

"You don't even listen to my story!"

"What could you possibly have to say? 'Hi, I'm an evil fucker who messes with little boys' heads and dicks and then leaves-'"

"'Hi, I'm an immature little fuck who never listens and I'm always right because God forbid I listen! I might find out that I'm wrong and then how would I write those angsty songs-'"

"'Hi, I'm stupid and can't concentrate on anything for more than two seconds and I just fuck whoever I want to and don't care about anybody but myself-'"

"'Hi, I'm a stupid fag who-'"

Suddenly, Freddy was rolling, his breath knocked out of him as Zack's angry body came colliding into him. He was temporarily blinded by his anger, all common sense knocked out of him; his fists began flying, ripping and tearing into whatever flesh he could find. It wasn't until he finally had the writhing body pinned underneath him that both his mind and his hormones kicked in.

Red, flushed face. Wild, crazy eyes. Messy, tousled hair. Writhing, squirming body. Oh. God.

"Zack-" he began before he felt himself rolling again, dragged around the plush, dark red carpeting of the room. His arms were burning where they had felt too much friction and were sore where they had been punched one too many times.

He quickly regained the upper hand, pushing Zack down and attempted to sit on him.

"Zack-"

The body began another maneuver to push Freddy over, but he firmly pushed down against Zack.

"Listen, dammit!" He roared, pushing his own arms and legs against the other boys' own, hard enough to leave bruises and just angry enough not to care. He panted for a few moments, trying to catch his breath, before finally deciding that he did not give a fuck whether he sounded like a horny girl or not.

"You call me the scared one, but I think you're the one who's scared."

Zack glared up at him at this comment. "You pretend like you understand. You don't."

"Oh, I understand. So you're gay. Who gives a fuck. So you like me. Who gives a fuck. That doesn't amount to shit when you're obviously not ready to give in to the idea that somebody may actually like you back!"

"Can you blame me?" Zack choked out, his voice still noticeably lined with anger. Freddy knew better, though. How the hell couldn't he know better? He wasn't as oblivious as everybody thought. Sometimes. He could sense the hurt and fear underlining the rest. "Anybody I've ever liked was straight. Even when I dated girls I didn't like them. And besides, they didn't like me. They only liked dating a guy in a band, and if they couldn't have you…"

Freddy sobered up at these words, his hands instinctively loosening up. Miraculously, Zack didn't fight to get out from under him. "That's not true," he whispered. "Summer hates me, so she doesn't just like you because she can't have me."

Zack stuck his tongue out, grimacing. "Summer likes me?"

Freddy laughed, his head falling forward. By the time he was able to regain himself and look back into Zack's face, he was laughing as well. "You are so clueless, Mooneyham."

The two lay there, laughing. Freddy never even stopped to think about how ridiculous this whole scenario was, two best friends fighting, rolling around, and all of a sudden they were laughing about girl problems while one of them lay underneath the other, pinned.

Zack's underneath me. Pinned.

Freddy grinned, surveying the situation. Zack was laughing so hard that his eyes were closed, his cheeks still tinted with red, his bangs still clumsily, sexily disheveled. And Freddy was in complete control.

With that thought in mind, Freddy leaned down and gently touched his lips to the other pair. There was a sharp intake of breath and, frightened, Freddy pulled up. He knew his own eyes were wide, watching, waiting, and his breath was held. He knew because he was getting the same, identical look from Zack.

Who would have thought, Jones? Scared of a little kiss? Who. Would. Have. Thought.

Finally, he released the body underneath him, and climbed off. He sat down against the closest wall, his knees drawn up to his chest. Zack did the same, his head cradled atop his arms which were crossed above his knees. Freddy almost smiled at this childish pose, remembering a time when he looked quite similar to how he looked now, just a lot smaller.

The day they had written "Step Off." The day that Freddy had first really, really noticed Zack. The day they had first talked on the phone. The day their friendship began.

It was weird how sometimes history repeated itself in the weirdest ways. How that simple posture from Zack could become the beginning of so many different things.

Freddy just looked at him, his hand itching to reach out and touch him, hold him, something.

Well dammit, that's so totally proof, right? Why doesn't he see that?

"What do you want, Freddy?"

The sudden question, no matter how quietly it was spoken, surprised the blond drummer. His head snapped to the side, listening and waiting for more.

"What do you want? Really? Why did you follow me here?"

The question was one that needed no thought.

"You," Freddy breathed. "I want you."

Zack tilted his head to the side, looking at Freddy from the corner of his eye. Freddy smiled and looked at the ceiling. He found that he needed to do this sometimes, just to make sure that he could articulate his thoughts correctly. Zack was too damn distracting, anyway.

"I don't know why. It wasn't like I had ever felt this way about you before. But ever since you kissed me, it's just been like… perfect. Well," he laughed, a chuckle from deep in his throat. He sensed a small laugh from his left as well. "Not perfect, since we've been fighting. But you know? Things just kinda clicked. It's fun when I'm with you. And it's right, even though I've always been told it's wrong. But it's not. It's you. And I don't want to ever lose it." He brought his own head back to gaze at Zack's eyes, a smile playing on his lips. They weren't stony and passive anymore. They were glittering and hopeful. "You know?"

Zack brought his head up, seeming to test the water. His arms moved slowly, his legs shifting to bring him to his knees. His body crawled over to rest in front of Freddy, his arms holding him up on either side of Freddy's waist.

His eyes never left Freddy's.

"Yeah," Zack whispered as he brought his face slowly closer. Neither of their eyes even fluttered, neither of them wanting to miss this moment, this Beginning.

A rapt knock came from the door. They didn't move.

"Yeah?" Zack croaked out.

"I heard Frederick is here." A low voice. Zack's father.

"Yeah." Zack responded, his eyes never leaving Freddy's. "He's spending the night."

"Tomorrow's a school day."

"We know."

A grunt. And then, he was gone.

The two boys smiled at each other.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this," Freddy mused, quietly, though his body never moved. Zack grinned and brought one hand up to cup Freddy's cheek.

"C'mere."

Freddy would never be sure how they had managed it. Two bodies, cramped together in a space that was small enough as it was when they were eleven. Now that each of them were at least six inches, it was insane for them to be inside the tent.

Zack's parents had said so. Freddy had said so. But he couldn't say no to the look in Zack's eyes, one that he hadn't seen in so long that it ached to see it now.

It was a look of such pure, childish happiness and hopefulness. His eyes came alive once again, shining.

Besides, two people could fit in a tent if they didn't mind sleeping very, very close together.

Zack and Freddy definitely didn't mind.

Freddy smiled at the boy next to him. So perfect. So pure. So beautiful.

Despite the fact that his foot was asleep, his back hurt and he was sure that his whole body would be cramping tomorrow, he knew this was exactly where he wanted to be.


End file.
